Sometime Around Midnight
by FallenOutTheWindow
Summary: "And it starts sometime around midnight, or at least that's when you lose yourself for a minute or two..."


**A/N: Guess who's back with another AU? **

**Listening to The Airborne Toxic Event again and this song just screamed at me to write something and given how I wasn't exactly happy with the Fitzsimmons reunion I thought I would write something else. This is completely divergent from the show and I'm not even sure I got the rating right for this but I'm putting it up anyway. **

**Also, for the people who felt the need to send me hate after the last thing I wrote I will point this out again, my writing it for others to enjoys. If you don't like it, leave. I happily accept constructive criticism but I will not accept abuse. **

**Please go and give 'Sometime Around Midnight' a listen and I hope you enjoy! **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters present, I just like to play with them. **

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><p><em><strong>And it starts<br>Sometime around midnight  
>Or at least that's when you lose yourself<br>For a minute or two**_

Throwing back the last mouthful of warm beer Leopold Fitz shot a smile to his best friend and partner in crime Skye who was holding on to her most recent object of affection a little too tightly.

"You just know that I'm going to be fired in the next month, the woman hates me. She's a demon for the darkest depths of hell itself-"

"A hot demon," Triplet interrupted, laughing at Hunter's fish impression after his comment on the Brit's ex-wife.

"Not the point mate, Bobbi hates me. You can just see the vengeance in her eyes when she walks into the office," Lance shouted, gesturing with his empty pint glass. "I'm telling you, end of the month and that it's for me."

"Well then, looks like you'd best be getting the drinks in while you can," Skye laughed as Fitz grabbed Hunter's half-finished drink and swallowed it in one.

"Yup, not going to be keepin' your deadweight around when you're gone," Fitz joked, handing Hunter his glass back as Trip wrapped his arm back around Skye, lifting his own drink above Fitz's head.

"My deadweight? I'm the one who carries this group! I-"

"You've been here seven months!" Fitz shouted back, laughing as Trip clapped his shoulder beaming and Skye proceeded to throw her arms around Hunter.

"And in those seven months, I have obviously become your leader."

"In your dreams," Skye stage whispered, earning a few laughs from her tipsy co-workers and friends as Hunter stood and walked away. The group had been gathered years ago as a team, gathering information and reports for the local news broadcasts delivered by local celebrities and adoptive parents, Philip Coulson and Melinda May. Despite the changes the group had undergone, members coming and going, the show almost being cancelled and leaving mainstream newsfeeds to pursue more pressing stories the group had stayed strong.

_Defenders of truth_, Skye had called them one night after too much to drink in the same bar they stood now. _"We're like a shield. We protect the innocen' and do good news stuff!"_ she announced, slurring heavily before falling to the floor almost two years ago.

Looking up at the clock that hung above the bar in _The Bus_, Fitz sighed. 12:03.

"Guys, it's getting' late and we have work tomorrow," Fitz started, shaking his head as Hunter passed several bills over the counter in exchange for eight shots.

"And we'll all be drunk tomorrow. You can buy the coffee but tonight we're doing shots," Lance laughed, picking up one of the glasses from the tray he'd brought over and passing it to the Scot. "For Queen and country or something like that, yeah?"

"Something like that," both Fitz and Skye sighed, knowing that despite his appearances Hunter was the lightweight of the group which considering that Trip was part of the group, was saying something.

"Alright, on three," Hunter shouted, barely getting past two before throwing back his first shot, coughing as the remaining trio did the same.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Trip looked over at Hunter who was sat with tears in his eyes, still coughing. "That went down well I take it?"

"Smooth," Hunter rasped, drawing a laugh from Skye who had wrapped herself back around Triplet at some point in the conversation. "Next up, tequila!"

"No."

"Hell no."

"What they said," Triplett echoed, remembering the last night out that had involved tequila and the hangover that has ensued after Skye's birthday.

"Look, I promise I won't try and dare us to do anything stupid, we just need shots and this is what I paid for. If you don't want your then I'll take it-"

"No you won't," Fitz smiled, scratching his ear. "Mate, you're pissed. Jus' do yours and Trip can do his and we'll end it after that, yeah?

"Actually…" Skye spoke, drawing out the word into six syllables as a bartender came over with four fresh pints on a tray, depositing them on the table.

"Great, we'll be here all night at this rate," Fitz sighed reaching for a salt packet as Trip grabbed a lime from the plate in the centre of the table.

"Go hard or go home," Skye shouted, making a show of rolling up her sleeves and licking her hand.

"Amen to that!" Hunter cheered, handing her a shot glass. "Right, lick, shoot, suck. On three?"

"Your three or ours? 'Cause you're not the best at countdowns tonight," Fitz laughed as he handed Trip the remains of his salt sachet.

"Your three. I forgot what came after two," Lance answered without a hint of a smile, earning a giggle from Skye and a shake of the head from Trip.

"Alrigh' then," Lifting his hand to his mouth and grasping his shot glass in the other, Fitz looks around the small booth to make sure that everyone else was ready. "One, two, three!" the Scot yelled, licking the back of his hand in a completely undignified manner before throwing back the shot, embracing the familiar burning as her placed the lime wedge between his teeth biting down. Skye was squealing and Lance was spluttering while Trip was hopelessly caught up in it all as some live band played at the other end of the bar, providing the perfect soundtrack to an evening which, in all honest, Fitz didn't want to end.

Smiling at Skye with the lime wedge still between his teeth was when Fitz caught sight of her and forgot how to breathe. Mouth dropping open and the fruit falling gracelessly from his mouth, Fitz took in the vision in white in his sight line.

"Jemma…"

* * *

><p>"<em>You really want that?" Fitz asked, smirking as he buried his nose in his girlfriend's hair, taking in the scent of apples and coconut. His shampoo and body wash. <em>

"_Maybe, sounds nice enough though. You're stuck hanging out with your best friend forever," Jemma answered, twisting in the small booth to throw her legs over Fitz's, pulling herself closer and his hand trailed further down her back. _

"_Funny enough, love, I don't think tha's usually how someone sells the idea of marriage." _

"_You have a point but what part of any of this is normal," Jemma laughed, hand flying around, gesturing to something that wasn't there, "Our lives? Our jobs? We run up and down the country chasing after monsters." _

"They're not monsters_," Fitz laughed, reciting the words that had been drilled into them both, "_They're just_-"_

"Misunderstood_, I know that. The point still stands."_

"_Come on then," Fitz whispered, stealing a quick kiss as he practically carried Jemma out of her seat and pulled her to the door." _

"_Whoa, where are we going?" _

"_I combed my hair, you're wearin' white and I wanna hang out with you forever," watching as Jemma slowly caught up with his idea, Fitz couldn't help the grin than took over his face. _

_Taking both of her hands in his, pressing his lips to her knuckles, Fitz slowly lowered himself to the floor. Ignoring the suspicious shine and the sticky texture that coated the floor of _The Bus_ Fitz found himself on one knee, looking up and his best friend. _

"_Jemma Simmons, this floor is disgustin' and you're incredible. You're smart and beautiful and you're the best friend a bloke like me could ask for so, here goes. Will you hang out with me for forever?" _

_Tears swimming and filling her vision, Jemma dropped drown to her knees, taking Fitz's face between her hands and drawing attention from the other patrons in the bars. "Those aren't the right words." _

"_Jem, will you marry me?" Fitz whispered, resting his forehead against Jemma's, holding his breath and waiting for an answer. _

"_Course I will," Jemma smiled, barely giving him a chance to process her words before throwing her arms around his neck, whispering 'I love you's' into his mouth between kisses. _

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><p>"What's up, mate?" Lance asked, pounding his chest as the tequila slowly burned its way down his throat.<p>

"Nothin', why?" Fitz answered, pasting on a fake smile as he looked away from the bar, ignoring the fact that just a few paces away from him stood the one and only Jemma Simmons. The pull to turn around and look back at her is almost all-consuming but instead of playing her games, Fitz picks up his beer and drains half of it down in one go.

"That's the spirit," Hunter whoops, cheering as he lifts his own glass, drink sloshing over the sides and down his fingers, "We need to toast to something," Lance decides suddenly, putting down his drink as his licks his fingers and Skye laughs.

"Why do we need to toast to anything?" she asked, dipping a finger into the head of Trip's beer, licking off the foam slowly, smirking as she catches the hitch in his breathing.

"Because we do. Because if we don't celebrate something then why are we bothering even drinking?" Lance explained as if the concept was obvious.

"And that's enough for Hunter," Trip laughed, reaching out to take the beer from him as Fitz nodded in agreement.

"He's getting all philos-fical," Skye hiccupped, stumbling over the words as Fitz laughed, fighting the urge to turn his head.

Feeling her eyes on him, hearing her laugh at something from across the bar was almost too much for Fitz and so lifting his glass the Scot shook his head, desperate to dislodge the memories of Jemma that threatened to consume him. "To us. To makin' it through another day. To not givin' a shit," Fitz laughed as Trip bumped his shoulder softly on his left.

"To good friends and Hunter's upcoming unemployment," Trip smirked, raising his glass and wrapping his arm around Skye's waist.

"To more alcohol," Lance, sighed, raising Skye's glass as Trip still held his out of reach.

Reaching out for Hunter's beer as her own had been stolen; Fitz couldn't help but smile at the group surrounding him. To anyone else they would have looked like the most unlikely bunch of rends but to him they were everything and the longer he focused on them the less pressing the urge was to follow Jemma with his eyes, especially now that she'd left her space by the bar.

"To Fitzy's round!" Skye cheered, lifting her glass as the cry was echoed. Swallowing a mouthful of beer, Fitz smiled at the younger woman curled up at the back of the booth.

"To my round, eh? Well then, looks like Skye's getting' the coffee tomorrow boys," Fitz laughed as Lance raised his beer in mock salute, his head drooping and Triplett sipped at his drink.

Standing quickly, grabbing on to the table as the room spins around him, Fitz reaches for his back pocket and pulling out his wallet, checks his cash.

"Righ' then, Hunter started it, I'm finishin' it. Shots," Fitz announced, earning cheers from Lance and Skye and a groan from Trip before sauntering off to the bar.

Leaning against the bar heavily, Fitz made quick work of ordering drinks and smiled at the staff behind the bar, trying to recall their names through the haze of the alcohol flooding his mind as the scent of apples and coconuts overwhelmed him and without even having to turn around he could feel her standing behind him.

"Hello Fitz," Jemma whispered sounding almost timid, a word he would have never thought to use when describing his Jemma. "How are you?"

"I'm, er. I..." Stuttering and stumbling over his words, Fitz struggled to answer the woman before him. Instead, letting his eyes roam Jemma's body and blaming his blatant staring on the earlier shots, Fitz took in the tight grip she had on her drink and the way her hair fell shorter than he'd ever seen it before.

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><p>"<em>I love you," Fitz whispered as he placed another kiss to Jemma's hip, lips dragging across her skin as he moved to her stomach. Pulling at her navel piercing Fitz refused to feel ashamed for the grin that stretched across his face. He'd heard the story of Jemma and Skye getting drunk and giving each other piercings but never dared to ask what exactly had been pierced. <em>

_Moving higher, feeling the press of her ribs against his mouth, Fitz moved his hand, fingers trailing up the outside of her thigh, thumb brushing against the much more sensitive skin of her inner thigh and smirking as he felt more than heard the hitch in her breath. "I love you." _

_Nipping, kissing, licking and sucking his way across the inside of her elbow, her breasts, her collarbone and neck, Fitz continued whispering his declarations of love into her skin until her reached her face. Eyes still closed in bliss and hair thoroughly mess, Jemma Simmons had never looked more beautiful to him. _

_Slowly reaching out and brushing a stray lock of hair from her head, Fitz leaned in to kiss Jemma once again, taking her bottom lip between his own, biting down and soothing it and struggling not to smile as she did the same, carding her fingers through his hair and dragging her nails down his spine. _

"_I love you too," Jemma whispered, opening her eyes and smiling lazily up at Fitz, "In case that wasn't obvious earlier." _

"_You know what, I don't think it was. Maybe you should show me again sometime," Fitz smirked, pulling Jemma closer to him, savouring the feeling of every inch of her skin pressed against his. _

"_I'm sure I could be persuaded somehow," she laughed, moving closer to Fitz and wrapping her leg over his, tangling their libs together as she started trailing patterns across his chest. _

"_You want me to persuade you now?"_

"_Mmm, not now. Later. Sleep now," Jemma murmured. _

"_I'll hold you to that," Fitz smiled, brushing her hair off of her shoulder, exposing her skin to him. Trailing his fingertips up and down her back, across her shoulder and neck and following the curves of her hips, Fitz watched as Jemma fell asleep against him, memorising the feel of her in his arms, the way she called out his name and thousands of other small details before allowing his eyes to drift shut, just as the sun began peeking through the windows._

* * *

><p>"Jemma," a voice shouts out from across the bar. He's tall, much taller than Fitz and with his broad shoulders and impressive physique he shadows the Scot as he walks over to the pair. "What's going on, I thought you were getting another drink."<p>

"I was, I just-"

"Doesn't matter," the man spoke, cutting Jemma off and wrapping a possessive arm around her shoulders, forcing her to face him before pressing his lips against hers. "Come one, I got us a booth back here," tall, dark and handsome announced before pulling Jemma away, not even acknowledging Fitz.

Turning back to face the bar, Fitz gripped the railings that surrounded the wood, knuckles turning white as he screwed his eyes shut, fighting memories of Jemma Simmons, the Jemma that he knew years ago, the Jemma who wouldn't have backed down like she had just now.

Memories of the Jemma Simmons who was his.

Flying through his head like scenes in a movie, pouring over him and pulling him in like waves, Fitz remembered the woman he once knew and with no other release he looked to the bar, finding the drinks that he had paid for and throwing back three of the shots without thinking before Hunter made his way over.

Finding comfort in the bitter burning of the alcohol, Fitz refused to acknowledge Hunter until he felt a hand wrap around his wrist, stopping shot number five from reaching his lips and a hand one his shoulder.

"Fitz, you okay?" Skye whispered, worry evident in her eyes.

"I'll be fine," he offered, shooting her a small smile before handing the drink off to Trip who stood behind him. "Though I may have already drunk my round," the Scot forced out a laugh, conscious of his friends watchful eyes.

"No worries about that mate, you saved the beers at least. Trip, your turn for buying, Skye you get this to the table and I'll…" Trailing off when he realised that Fitz wasn't listening Hunter tried to follow Fitz's gaze but finding nothing he thought no more of it. Instead, pulling his friend along to their booth, Lance made it his job to keep at least one drink in the Scots hand at all time, recognising the look on Fitz's face all too well.

Skye returned with Trip bearing drinks and the pair had barely settled the tray on the table when Fitz was reaching out for something, anything to burn away the bitter taste of memories in the back of his throat.

The bar began thinning out and despite his best intentions to focus on his friends and forget Jemma and the mystery man pulling her along, Fitz couldn't help glancing over in the direction that he'd last seen her heading. It isn't long until Fitz is rewarded with a glimpse of her, white dress floating around her and hair shining like a halo through the haze of the alcohol; meeting his eyes, Fitz tries to convey anything and everything, tries to make her understand.

_I miss you._

_I needed you._

_I loved you._

_I still love you._

The words cycle around and around in his head as the stranger he'd seen earlier bends down to kiss her. She doesn't break eye contact with Fitz and the Scot honestly can't tell if that's supposed to help anything because all he can see is another man touching her and holding her and it all feels like one big hit to the stomach.

Opening his mouth, hoping that the words will find themselves if he shouts out to her, Fitz watches as Jemma leaves the bar, following the man he doesn't know and does nothing but throw back another drink. The alcohol doesn't help at all, it didn't help when she left the first time like some ghost after midnight but the burning is familiar and the focusing on the feel of the shot glass in his hand helps to drown out the images of Jemma and this mystery man.

Tightening his grasp, Lance notices the change and Fitz is vaguely aware of the hand on his shoulder but it isn't until he hears Skye's gasp that he looks down at his fist; shards of glass spattering the table and blood dripping from his palm.

He doesn't feel it.

All Fitz can feel is the phantom touches of Jemma's fingertips across his skin and her lips on his and the torment in his head send his stomach into knots, ropes turning and twisting as he struggles to breathe.

"Fitz, what's going on?" Skye asks quietly, sobering up at the sight of his hand.

"Yeah, what is it? I haven't seen you like this since-" Trip trailed of, realisation slowly dawning as Lance spoke over him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Hunter jokes, not understanding the sudden hush that had descended over the table.

"It's Jemma," Fitz whispered, struggling to hold himself together.

"Fitz don't," Skye whispered, tears threatening to form, remembering finding Fitz in pieces, throwing bottles at the wall and screaming to the stars for an explanation. Remembering spending weeks searching for Jemma after she left, not understanding the other woman's sudden disappearance, scouring search rooms and police stations and bars for her with Trip until Coulson called off their search, handing her the official resignation of one Jemma Simmons with no real reason stated for her leaving.

Trip placed a firm hand on Fitz's shoulder, ready to stop him and the Scot couldn't blame him. He knew that he'd been a right state that last time she's left and knew that seeing her again couldn't have been easier but, much to the surprise of everyone at the table it was Hunter who understood Fitz the best.

Standing up, shuffling out of the booth so that Fitz could follow him, Hunter reached out an arm to the smaller man, gripping his forearm and pulling him closer.

"I get it, mate. It was the same after Bobbi," Hunter breathed as Skye and Trip both stood up behind him, "You just have to see her," Lance sighed and at Fitz's nod, let go of his arm.

Wasting no time, Fitz bid his friends goodbye, not really caring that they were still following him. Running out of _The Bus_ Fitz squinted under the street lights, running up the few stairs and out of the basement level pub.

Looking both ways with no real idea of which way Jemma went the Scot almost gave up before Skye moved to stand behind him, startling him with her yell.

"Jemma! Jemma Simmons! We're looking for you, where are you?" Skye screamed out, honestly expecting an answer in her inebriated state. It didn't take long for Trip to join in with her cries and the sight of his friends acting like fools on the sidewalk of a pub in the early hours of the morning was enough to pull at his heart, warmth flooding in with the knowledge that these people surrounding him were willing to do almost anything for him.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Fitz rushed over to a young couple standing under a streetlight smoking, grabbing on to the railings beside them to steady himself. "I'm looking for a woman."

"Aren't we all," the woman before him laughed before taking another drag of her cigarette.

"It's a specific one, she's called Jemma and I need to find her. She's about yea high and has brown hair and was wearin' white and I need to find her so will you please jus' help me?" Fitz begged, not caring about the scene he was making, barely noticing that Hunter had come to stand behind him, swaying slightly.

"Sorry, don't think I've seen her," the young man replied only to be cut off by the woman once again, blowing a mouthful of smoke in his face.

"That's because she put a coat on, dickhead. Went that way with tall, dark and brooding. Might be able to catch them if you run," The woman offered before bringing her cigarette back up to her lips.

"Brilliant," Fitz beamed, taking off in the direction she had pointed; stumbling slightly as he struggled to find his footing, listening to Skye's cheering fade into the distance.

Feet thundering across the concrete, Fitz gave no second thought to the odd passer-by he saw on the streets, thoughts of Jemma consuming him as the rest of the world fell around him. Forcing himself to go faster, ignoring the burning in his lungs as he skidded around a corner, sending out a half-hearted prayer that he was headed in the right direction as memories washed over him once again.

Meeting Jemma.

Falling in love with her.

Swing sets at midnight.

Long nights at _The Bus_ and even longer nights in bed.

Proposing to her.

Waking up to a world in which Jemma Simmons was a phantom, a dream.

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><p>"<em>Hello, I'm Jemma," she smiled from above him, hesitantly gesturing to the other side of the empty booth in <em>The Bus_._

"_You're gorgeous," Fitz mumbled, the alcohol removing any chance of a filter in his mind as he spoke. _

"_Most people usually respond with their name but I like how forward you are," Jemma laughed, sliding across the old and worn felt seat covers. "You alone?" _

"_Not anymore it seems," Fitz responded, shuffling across to join her at the back of the booth. "Fitz, by the way." Slowly taking her hand and shaking it after offering his name, Fitz couldn't help his intrigue at the woman before him and her oddly forward and yet incredibly polite manner. _

"_Interesting name, not sure if your birth certificate would say the same." _

"_Last name but I'd rather shoot myself in the left foot than have you callin' me Leopold," Fitz joked, not letting go of Jemma's hand, thanking any deities listening that she hadn't pulled away either. _

"_I like you, Leopold," Jemma laughed, fingers stretching out to interlace with his unabashedly._

"_Well then, tha's a start," Fitz smiled, raising his glass with his free hand, drinking it down as his eyes never left Jemma's._

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><p>Losing her once was hard enough, now that he was so close, Fitz refused to back down and lose her again. Even if he couldn't love her as he had, he couldn't let her go; she was worth more to him than life itself. She was it, his reason to breathe, his everything and despite knowing what had happened despite having his heart broken and torn into pieces he needed her. Silently telling the consequences to go to hell Fitz prepared to call out, knowing that if nothing else then he just had to see her.<p>

_**You just have to see her  
>You just have to see her<br>You just have to see her  
>You just have to see her<br>You just have to see her**_

_**You know that she'll break you in two**_

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><p><strong>AN2: Not entirely sure about the ending but you can't have everything. I hope you all enjoyed it and if you did, let me know. **

**I'm also contemplating a sequel from Jemma's point of view so if you'd be interested in that or have any idea of songs to inspire that then send me a review and let me know. **

**Until next time... **


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